


Coming of Age

by cdra



Series: Kinktober 2019 [8]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Feower Has Absolutely No Chill, Hate Sex, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Power Bottoming, Switching, Trans Feower, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 18:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/cdra
Summary: Feower has determined that the worst part of "coming of age", as an Erune, is the heats. With Tien worried about her brother's negligence of his condition, Seox decides to help... or at least try, as best as he knows how.[Kinktober Day 8 - Hatesex]





	Coming of Age

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8: Blood/Gore | Prostitution/Sex Work | Fisting | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex
> 
> I'd never written Feower before this but he's a riot, that boy has absolute 0 chill. Someone put him on ice.

Heats, Feower has decided, are absolutely the worst part of becoming an adult.

They only come on every few months, but his are still erratic and unpredictable and come on hard—they’re supposed to settle into a rhythm, eventually, but he’s still young and his body isn’t used to it. He doesn’t like the fuzzy feeling of it, like he’s about to lose control if something or someone moves just wrong near him, and he doesn’t like the implication that he _is _growing up, despite his indignant desire to remain apart from the adults who’d wronged him.

No, it’s the loss of control that’s the worst—it’s the _wanting _that makes him positively irate. It’s the fact that, no matter how disgusted or vehement he becomes, his body will still ache with want for a compatible partner.

And god_damn _if being pinned underneath fucking _Seox _of all people isn’t a hell of an example of that.

“Let me _go_, dammit—” Feower hisses as he writhes, his bare back flush against Seox’s chest as the larger man holds his neck and wrist at the ground—his other arm is uncomfortable stuck beneath his chest. Internally, he curses his slenderness—feeling _small _under Seox only aggravates him more. He bares his teeth as he casts a glance over his shoulder. “Are you fucking listening?! Get off of me, or—”

“You need help,” Seox states coolly from behind his mask, his voice dark as ever—the damn thing makes him completely inscrutable, on _top _of being much too strong for Feower’s liking. “Your scent is unbearable; you’ll be in worse shape if you don’t do something about it.”

There’s truth to that, and Feower knows it, but he also hears the affected breathiness in Seox’s voice and it makes his ears twitch in irritation. “Oh, so I’m just supposed to roll over in gratitude because you’re_ trying to help?_ Fuck you,” he growls as he wriggles under Seox’s grasp again, but it only serves to get him riled upmore as he feels the hard line of Seox’s cock against his backside.

Seox clicks his teeth and rolls his hips, and the shift only makes Feower arch up harder and his position grow a bit more uncomfortable. “Do what you like,” Seox grumbles as he lifts his hand from Feower’s nape. Instinctive desire boils in Feower’s gut from how he’s positioned, but he’d say most anything before he admitted to _wanting _Seox to continue. It’s easier to stay indignant, to snarl and writhe like he hates it, when even the slightest part of him _does _hate it.

“Is that some kind of joke?! You’re the one _holding me down,”_ Feower hisses back as Seox rather brusquely pulls his pants down. It’s an opportunity, but the moment Feower tries to lash out, Seox pins his hand again; he’s too damn fast, monstrously fucking strong. “Hey, fuck—nn?!” his curse is cut short by a cry he’s forced to swallow; Seox has his mask pushed up just enough to reveal his mouth, just enough to let him sink his teeth into Feower’s shoulderblade, and _why _does that faint sting affect him so much?!

Efficient to the point of seeming heartless, Seox bites down again a little closer to Feower’s spine and grinds against his ass, not taking his time at all. Feower appreciates that, really, in whatever twisted way he _appreciates _any of this—he’d hate it more if Seox, of all people, made some play at tenderness with him, like Feower was something fragile and soft and _weak_. Fire claws at his veins and pools in his gut, between his legs with a wet sensation; it’s the same telltale, needy heat that makes his heart jump each time Seox bites into his flesh.

Unconsciously, Feower’s starting to melt into this: his nails scrape at the floor and the tense arch of his spine relaxes. Seox gives a low, pleased grumble and fits himself against Feower’s back, but despite how Feower’s expression goes momentarily slack from the resonating heat, he refuses to submit so easily.

He hisses another string of expletives as the sheer warmth of Seox’s cock rubs against his rear—Feower’s already embarrassingly slick and he’d swear it’s just his biology betraying him. He thrashes aimlessly, but Seox pins him squarely once more with a threatening growl.

“Like hell I’m going to just _let _you fuck me—” Feower retorts, his teeth pressed together as he bucks. It’s a bit of a futile display, when his skin’s practically feverish and his pupils are blown and fluid is dripping down the backs of his thighs obscenely, but it’s the principle of the matter.

“I’ll force you, if that’s what you want,” Seox mutters; he grips painfully at Feower’s wrists, holding him firmly despite how he’s almost managed to wriggle into an advantageous position. “I’m not doing this for my own amusement.”

It aggravates Feower all the more how Seox can speak like he’s _not _getting off on this in the slightest, when the truth of that is so fucking _obvious _between his thighs. “Where do you get off acting so high and mighty? I’m not fucking—” Seox bites him again and thrusts his hips forward, both attempting to shut him up and to get this over with quickly; Feower whines throatily.

It’s a bit of a clumsy affair, when Feower refuses to stay still and Seox’s hands are thus occupied keeping him in place, but surely enough Seox manages to shove his way inside. Feower nearly screams at the sudden, white-hot sensation, but as much as he wants it to hurt (just so he can complain about it) his body lights up with pleasure instead as it gets what it’s desperately been craving. His tongue hangs slightly from his mouth as he gasps; Seox loosens his grip just a bit, setting one hand on Feower’s hip to stabilize himself.

Still refusing to waste time, Seox doesn’t fully give Feower the chance to adjust before he begins to thrust. Each motion is too much, and Feower’s vision goes spotty as he chokes back whatever obscene sounds threaten to escape his throat; a chorus of sawed-off, slurred “fuck”s make their way out in place of anything coherent. He can’t deny that it feels good, amazingly so—it’s only with a relief in sight that he realizes just how bad the aching inside of him had gotten—but he can still be indignant about the circumstances. The sound of Seox’s low breathing, his own disorderly gasping, the wet and obscene noise of flesh meeting flesh—Feower’s ears lower, both trying to avoid hearing it and also losing the will to stay tense in face of the bursting pleasure that courses through him.

Seox bares down against his shoulder, nipping idly at his skin, and Feower sees an opportunity—he forces his mind into order despite how his instincts plead for him to simply give in and enjoy this. He’s quick about it: Feower’s hand darts up to grab at the mask over Seox’s eyes, which earns a startled cry as he recoils instinctively. It works perfectly; Seox’s weight and hands are off of him enough that Feower can turn the tables, jamming an elbow into Seox’s chest before flipping him over onto his back aggressively.

“H-hey, what are you—” Seox sounds different when his mask is half-jostled off his face; Feower follows the instinct to remove it entirely as he straddles the other man’s hips triumphantly. “S-stop, give that back—!”

“Nah,” Feower huffs childishly; his breaths still come in heaves and his eyes are lidded and dark as he gazes down at Seox’s face, perhaps all the more so now that he’s gotten the upper hand. Admittedly, he hasn’t seen his fellow Eternal without the damn thing many times. With his ears pressed against his skull and his lips pressed together like he’s about to cry, Seox gives a totally different impression, way more pitiful and not even slightly intimidating or cool, to the point that Feower has to laugh.

“We’re doing this on my terms,” Feower chuckles as he grabs Seox’s thighs and grinds back against his still-wet cock; there’s something about Seox’s shaky expression that practically gives him a high. “What? Got a problem with that?”

Seox looks away as if overwhelmed. “Do what you like,” he mumbles in a tiny voice, and Feower decides that he will.

It’s as easy as anything to take Seox inside of him again, when his body’s already used to the stretch and desperate to be filled again—but it feels _way _better like this, when Seox is at his mercy instead of the reverse. Feower moans shamelessly, now, as he rocks his hips side-to-side, up-and-down, testing what satisfies the itching heat the best. Everything seems to work pretty well, as far as that goes, and Feower has to swipe the back of his hand along his lip to keep from drooling unconsciously.

Despite how quiet he had been before, Seox practically whimpers underneath him now—Feower drinks it in as he rides Seox’s cock with increasing fervor. “Fucking ridiculous. You’re so tough with your mask on, but now? You’re a total mess; it’s pathetic.” Feower’s words are venomous, but husky and dripping with desire; he groans as he rocks his hips at just the right angle. Now, it’s far easier to just let the heat consume him proper; his expression is plenty wrecked, but he couldn’t care less when Seox is all the worse beneath him, whining and shivering with each slam of Feower’s hips.

“Shit, it feels so good—” Feower doesn’t mind his tongue so much now, his mouth parted as he picks up the pace desperately; when he looks down, Seox has his eyes hidden in the crook of his elbow as he breathes in needy gasps. Even without being able to see his eyes, though, Seox’s wrecked expression is totally apparent—it sends an undeniable thrill up Feower’s spine.

A string of “more” and “fuck” and other nonsense spills from his lips as he chases desperately after his climax; he takes Seox completely inside of himself only to go tense and shudder at the stretch of Seox filling him _more_. Feower almost loses his composure as he grinds against the knot that swells at the base of Seox’s cock; a loud whine breaks free from his throat nonetheless, and he stares upward at the ceiling as his vision blurs.

“Holy _fuck_—that’s—” Feower keens uselessly. It’s like the key to a lock he hadn’t realized was holding him back, the pleasure spreading through his veins in a blaze. It’s more than enough to finish him off, his thighs quivering as he comes; Seox cries out wordlessly as he comes, as well, the heat of it spilling out inside of Feower until it threatens to drip past the edge of the knot locked inside him. It’s another strange kind of satisfying, something his body had been itching for all this time, unheard through Feower’s stubbornness.

For a moment longer, Feower stays frozen in place, shaking slightly as he sees stars—it takes longer than usual to come down from the ecstatic high, but that seems consistent with the other quirks of his heat. He lifts his hips steadily to release Seox’s steadily-lessening knot with a pop; Feower falls back onto his ass unceremoniously, still gasping for air.

Seox, perhaps, takes even longer to recover some semblance of himself; he keeps his hand over his face as he sits up, staring uneasily at Feower—almost like a frightened wild animal, truly. “S-seems that helped,” Seox mutters softly, his eyes darting around the room in search of his mask; it’s not so far from him, and he darts toward it before worrying about righting anything else on his person.

Once it’s back on his face, Seox’s voice lowers abruptly; Feower decides immediately that that’s super weird, and he doesn’t like it. “You don’t reek like you did before…”

“Fuck you,” Feower spits with a snarl as he adjusts his clothing; no, he needs to calm down, now that his head’s not quite so hazy. He huffs and lowers his expression, attempting to quell the fire in his gaze to his standard disinterest. “I just smell like you, now, so I’m not sure that’s better.” No, the indignant roughness of his tone is still there; it’s hard to stay calm, speaking to Seox.

“You’re far less likely to be attacked for it,” Seox comments as he stands to leave, brusquely righting his appearance in the process. “My task is done, so I’m off.”

“Go on and let the door hit you on your way out,” Feower growls; yeah, from the way he said that, someone definitely put Seox up to this. Probably fucking Seofon—unless…?

Seox merely hums and slips out of the room like it’s the easiest thing ever and he doesn’t give a damn about it, and he _wasn’t _just whimpering under Feower like a bitch—Feower grits his teeth, but he can’t help but perk an ear at the soft sound of his sister’s voice down the hall.

He sighs and pushes his sweat-damped bangs back; dammit, it’d be so much easier to be petulant about this if it didn’t come back to her. But no matter how ridiculous the situation, if it comes down to the fact that he made Tien worried—Feower guesses he has no right to stay mad.

**Author's Note:**

> why do the boys keep having rights. at least the next two days will be girl rights. hehehehehe


End file.
